


Are you partners?

by redneterp



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Injury, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:00:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22567453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redneterp/pseuds/redneterp
Summary: When Holster is injured during a hockey game, Ransom is by his side every step of the way (literally), and realizes he has Feelings for his bro. Will those feelings be reciprocated? Will Holster be able to return to the ice? Read on to see how the original D-men Best Bros navigate these unexpected questions.
Relationships: Adam "Holster" Birkholtz/Justin "Ransom" Oluransi
Comments: 12
Kudos: 87
Collections: Bitty's Valentines Collection





	Are you partners?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [loud_as_lions](https://archiveofourown.org/users/loud_as_lions/gifts).



> This is a Bitty's Valentine gift for [jeanjacketbittle](https://jeanjacketbittle.tumblr.com/)/@loud_as_lions, who requested Chris Chow or Holsom, and fluff, hurt/comfort (not sickfic), light angst, soft hockey boys.  
> This was fun to write, so I hope it meets the target (Chowder makes a wee cameo) and brings you joy!
> 
> Note the injury is a hockey-typical injury, and not described in detail.

Friday Feb 12th 2016.

Samwell vs Harvard.

Four minutes remaining in the third period with the game tied 2-2.

Ransom put on a burst of speed to pressure Harvard’s right winger towards the boards, but at the last moment the guy dumped the puck behind the net. Still marking his man, Ransom spun just in time to see Holster rushing back for the loose puck. There was a flurry of sticks and limbs, and then somehow Holster was down and sliding towards the goal at great speed. _Fuck, did that asshole right winger trip Holzy? Wait, did he hit the post? Shit, he’s not getting up._

Somewhere in the confusion, Chowder managed to get a glove on the puck on the far side of the crease, and the ref whistled the stoppage in play. Abandoning his mark, Ransom rushed to the goal, dropping to one knee at Holster’s side. 

“Holtzy? Bro, are you ok?”

Holster was curled up on his side, stick abandoned, nearly in a fetal position with his right skate still within the goal. He groaned as he turned to face Ransom, his face a ghostly shade of white under the arena lights. “Uggh, fuck, my knee,” he moaned, clutching the joint with his still-gloved hands.

“Shit, did you go knee-first into the post?”

“I think so, yeah.”

“Fuck… Can you move it?” Ransom asked.

Holster tried, shifting his skate an inch or two on the ice, with a wince of pain. “Not really.”

By then the trainers had arrived, sliding across the ice on their shoes, confirmed that Holster hadn’t injured his head or spine, and gave permission for him to try and get up. Holster slowly got up, bracing himself on Ransom, but wasn’t able to put weight on that right leg. He balanced on his left, arms wrapped around Ransom and Whiskey’s shoulders as they carefully skated him over to the bench, where the trainers took over helping him down the hallway. Ransom was tempted to follow him, but a raised eyebrow from Coach Hall reminded him there was still a game to play. While he’d been occupied the ref had sent the asshole winger off with a major for hooking, and Samwell’s power play lines were about to hit the ice.

  


Moments later, the final buzzer sounded. Bitty had scored on the power play off an assist from Ransom, handing Samwell the victory. Their celebration, however, was muted out of concern for their teammate. As soon as the handshakes were over, Ransom made a beeline for the dressing room, where he tugged off his skates before rushing to the trainers’ room still wearing the rest of his gear. He arrived to find Holster sitting on the bed, stripped down to his UnderArmor with icepacks on his knee, which was visibly swollen. He grabbed Holster’s shoulders in a hug, careful not to jostle his leg. As he was checking in with his bro, Chowder arrived sans leg pads and skates, radiating concern and apologizing on behalf of the goal. 

“Wait,” Ransom interjected. “C, you’re not responsible for the goalpost being where it’s always been, blame this on the fucker who tripped him.”

“Yeah, C, you may be one with the posts during the game, but this was 100% not your fault, bro,” Holster confirmed.

“Ok,” Chowder eventually agreed, “but anything I can do to help you, anything at all, you just say the word.”

And with that, trainer Sara shoo-ed them out, sending the back to the dressing room to shower and change with promises they could return after she’d finished examining Holster’s knee.

_X_

Two and a half hours later, Holster slowly made his way up the Haus’ staircase. One arm was slung around Ransom’s shoulder as he half-lifted Holster up the stairs, and Chowder followed one step behind, one hand on Holster’s back for balance. A trip to the small local hospital allowed for X-rays that had shown no fractures, so the team doctor had arranged for an MRI in the city the next day. 

Once they reached the first floor landing they paused for rest and the bathroom (“Bro, once we’re in the attic we’re not coming all the way back down for you to brush your giant teeth, do it now.”), before continuing their awkward hop-shuffle up to the attic. With Holster safely perched on the lower bunk, Chowder ran back downstairs promising to get some of Bitty’s after-game peanut butter cookies for Holster as Ransom helped him tug off his tracksuit and prop his leg on a pillow. He tried to be as gentle as he could, but Holster still winced with the movement.

Shortly thereafter, cookies eaten and contacts out, Holster decided to call it a night, and Ransom helped him settle back on the bed. Once the pillows supporting the injured knee were arranged to his liking he turned to go, but was stopped by Holster’s hand grabbing his wrist.

“Stay?” Holster asked.

“Sure, if that’s what you want bro, let me just get the lights,” Ransom replied, doing so before carefully settling on his side beside Holster, whose injured knee was safely up against the wall.

They laid there for several moments, quietly breathing in the dark, before Holster finally spoke in an uncharacteristic near-whisper. “What if this is it? What if I blew my ACL, and I’m out for the rest of the season? This is our senior year, so what if this is it for me, no more hockey? I’m not ready for it to be over, I thought we still had another month at least, then the playoffs.”

Ransom couldn’t deny that similar thoughts had been racing through his anxious brain. He knew enough not to belittle his bro; knee injuries were the bane of hockey players’ careers. Taking a deep breath, he put his hand on Holster’s arm and tried to make his voice as reassuring as possible as he answered. “No matter what, I’ll be here with you, bro, we’ll figure it out together.”

“Thanks, dude,” Holster whispered before drifting off to sleep with an assist from the pain meds he’d received from the doc.

Ransom laid awake much longer, realizing that what he’d said was the absolute truth. Holster was the most important person in his life. As he laid there, tucked in next to him on a too-small bunk bed, he finally asked himself what Holster meant to him. He allowed himself to think of their past and future, and finally admitted to himself that his feelings could be romantic love, not just best-bro-love. The realization brought peace to his mind, and he followed Holster into sleep imagining a future together.

_X_

The next morning, Matt the trainer arrived bright and early to drive Holster to the city for his MRI, and was unsurprised that Ransom planned to join them. The Saturday morning traffic was light, and they made it to the hospital with time to spare. Holster’s knee was still sore, and he didn’t protest being directed into a wheelchair for Ransom to push him through the maze of hallways to diagnostic imaging. Registration completed, the clerk directed them to the changing room. “Are you Adam’s partner?” he asked. 

Ransom confirmed that he was, and was allowed to stay. Squeezed into the tiny changing room outside the imaging suite, Ransom helped Holster into a hospital gown that was way too short for his giant d-man self, barely reaching his mid thighs. After removing the tensor bandages to reveal the knee that was still giant and red, they sat to wait again.

“You know,” Holster began, “I think they were asking if you were my partner-partner, not my D-partner.”

Ransom looked into Holster’s eyes. Time for full honesty. “I’d be your partner in every way, if you’d have me.”

“Really?” Holster asked, eyes wide.

“Yeah.”

Before Holster could reply, a technician stepped into the hallway. “Adam Birkholtz? Time to come on in,” she said as she propped open the door so he could wheel himself through. “You can wait back out in the waiting room,” she instructed Ransom, “it’ll take a while.”

Forty-five minutes. 

That’s how long Ransom sat in the waiting room as Holster’s knee was being imaged, worrying alternately about what the MRI would find, and what Holster thought of his declaration of feelings. He wanted to pace, but kept himself in the seat next to Matt, knee jiggling. Had he really ruined everything with his bro? He hoped not, but …

Finally, Holster emerged from the back, still in the hospital gown but with a blanket over his lap. Matt directed them through the hospital to a clinic room where the knee specialist would see them. As they walked, Matt explained how the Samwell team doc had sweet-talked the radiologist and the orthopedic surgeon into be available on the weekend to urgently read the MRI and examine Holster, respectively. Once in the room Holster made it onto the small exam bed with a bit of help, leg stretched out in front of him, Ransom standing at his side. Matt stood at the doorway, keeping an eye out for Dr Wong, so Holster spoke quietly.

“Hey Justin?” he asked, reaching out his hand to softly touch Ransom’s hand. “I’d have you. I mean, I want that.”

“Partners?” Ransom asked.

“Partners. Dating. Whatever, so long as it’s with you.”

“Sap,” Ransom said, but still slid his hand to intertwine their fingers.

  
  


Minutes later, Dr Wong bustled into the room, followed by an exhausted-looking resident. After asking a few questions, they thoroughly examined Holster’s knee, poking, bending and twisting it as he grimaced and squeezed Ransom’s hand.

“Ok, I think we have good news for you, Adam. I’ve reviewed your MRI with Dr Chadra, and both the MRI and our exam now don’t show any evidence of a ligament injury. It seems you sustained a direct force to the front of the joint, and while your gear protected the patella from fracture, the impact was enough to cause bleeding within the bursa in front of the patella,” he explained, pulling up diagrams on his phone to demonstrate. “With the basics - ice, anti-inflammatories and rehab - I think you could be back on the ice in 2-3 weeks. Although that means you’ll be back in time to face off against my alma mater, BC, so maybe I should make you wait another week?” he finished with a laugh.

And with that, after a few specific instructions from the doc to Matt about the rehab plan and follow-up appointments, they were free to go. 

Ransom and Holster settled on a bench outside the entranceway as they waited for Matt who’d run to get the car. It was nearing noon, and the sun was out, a warm enough day for boys from Toronto and Buffalo to sit outdoors. As they waited, leaning together shoulder-to-shoulder, they chatted about the remainder of the season, and the chance that Holster could be back in time for the ECAC tournament playoffs. As they discussed the logistics of getting around campus on crutches, Ransom pulled out his phone to confirm Holster’s schedule and his eye caught on the date.

“Bro, tomorrow’s Valentines day. I should ... can I take you on a date? I’ll need to get back to you on the details, once I figure out where I can take you while on crutches, that hasn’t been reserved for weeks.”

“Such a romantic sap. Yes, you can take me anywhere, anytime,” Holster said with an atrocious waggle of his giant eyebrows.

“Dork.” 

“And yet you still want to date me.”

“I do,” Ransom confirmed.

“Well good, because I want to date you too. In fact, I think this is the perfect moment for a first kiss, don’t you?”

“Are you seriously imagining our lives as one of your romcoms right now?”

“Stop fighting it and kiss me, bro,” Holster insisted, leaning even closer.

And so Ransom did just that. Tilting his head to avoid Holster’s glasses, he pressed his lips to Holster’s in a soft kiss, before pulling back to see the giant grin on Holster’s face that surely matched his own. Leaning in again, his hand came up to Holster’s face, fingertips brushing against the day-old stubble he found there as he deepened the kiss.

The moment (and it really was an epic, screen-worthy, moment, Ransom had to admit) was interrupted by a brief toot of a horn. Matt had arrived with his car. Once the passenger seat was pushed forward as far as it would go, Holster slowly slid into the backseat, leg partially-extended in front of him. Ransom jogged around the car to slide into the backseat next to him, pressed up close against his best bro-now-date, fingers intertwined. 

Ransom was a planner, and this wasn’t at all in his plans when he woke up the day prior, but he realized there was nowhere else he’d rather be. He was with his favourite person, and they’d figure it all out -- Valentines, hockey, romance, life after Samwell -- together.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [Tumblr](https://redneterp.tumblr.com/).


End file.
